Storm's Maturing
by Kityye
Summary: Young Storm sets off on her journey to Kenya. (Read Storm's Child first)


Disclaimer- Storm and her background do not belong to me (But Casey does!). I am not making any money off of this story. Please, do not sue me.  
  
  
Storm's Maturing  
  
  
Casey watched Ororo from the bed as she finished packing a backpack with food and water. She swung her child's legs and noted every move made by the older girl. Lacing the bag shut, Ororo turned around and crouched.  
  
"Come, give me a hug," she said. Casey stared at her apprehensively. Ororo held her arms out.   
  
It was one of Ororo's favorite pastimes, hugging. Her parents had been killed when she was a baby. The Master's students had found her and taken her in. He was not a man given to showing emotion by touch. Neither were the other students. But, when Ororo had found Casey, orphaned and alone, a new world had been opened to her. Casey, a baby, was used to caresses, and hugging, and kisses on the cheek. She shared with Ororo, and they often could be found together, Casey on Ororo's lap, just sitting in a hug.  
  
Hesitantly, Casey went to Ororo. Ororo enfolded her in her arms. "Now, you know I have to go away. You are going to stay here with Master, right?"  
  
The five year old nodded, hugging back fiercely.  
  
"And you are going to become a great thief, and I will read about you, right?"  
  
There were tears in Casey's eyes, but she nodded again. It was her dream to follow in Ororo's footsteps.  
  
Ororo had found the orphaned child and raised her under the help of her old thieving master. The crusty old man had taken the baby, between one and two years old at the time, and gradually fallen in love with her.   
  
"And you are going to listen to the Master, correct?"  
  
Casey was the granddaughter Ororo could never have been to him, because she had felt the Sahara calling. Ororo was the most talented of his students, and he was teaching Casey to take Ororo's spot. Ororo had been responsible for Casey, but Master would give the baby sweets and offer to let her stay in his office while Ororo went thieving. Ororo had raised her, but Master had been slowly taking her spot in the little girl's life, and in truth Ororo was quite ready to give her over to the old man. The desert was calling her louder than before, and she was finally going to be able to answer it.  
  
Ororo kissed the child on the forehead. "Good girl. Now, go find Master and see what he wants you to do."  
  
Casey ran from the room without looking back.  
  
"Goodbye, Casey," Ororo whispered. She stood, placed the backpack over her shoulder, and left.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
As she walked down the streets of Cairo, she remembered last time she had tried to answer the call of the desert. She had been eight then. She had found Casey, and, rather than bring the child into the Sahara with her, come back here. She had waited for Casey to grow older before leaving again.  
  
As the city receded behind her, she straightened her bag. The sun was hot, but not unbearable. In fact, it was cooler out here than in the city. Of course, it was only morning. It felt good, though.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~   
  
Ororo dipped her body into the warm water, ducking her head under. Her hair floated in a white cloud behind her. She sighed in pure bliss, and began to scrub at her dark arms. She loved the Sahara. She hadn't realized how much she hated the city until only one month ago, and then, after she left, she vowed never to return. Out here nothing was around for hundreds of miles except for sand dunes and the occasional oasis, like the one she was bathing in. Clean, she fell backwards and floated. Through the broad leaves of a palm tree she could see the morning sun. Already it was hot. Out here, she mused, the sense of apprehension left her chest, leaving her free to breath in the Goddess's air as much as she wanted. And the air smelled so much cleaner out her, too.  
  
She dragged herself out of the pool and pulled some bread out of her backpack. Munching on it under the shady palms, she reflected that the rows of buildings had created fear in her. They had towered over her, wanting to fall on her like... like... they had...   
  
Ororo pulled her clothes back on, shaking her head to dispel memories of when she was a baby. They was dry and clean from the scrubbing she had given them the night before. Then placing the backpack on her shoulder, she scrambled up the embankment and onto the sand. She began to walk, hoping to hit the next watering hole before night came. She didn't have a destination, just a sense of fulfillment that only came when she was moving. Her "parents," the elements, pushed and pulled at her to go south, constantly south.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
Ororo's clothes hung on her in ragged tatters. Forty days had passed since she had last eaten. Forty, long, long, days. At first she was hungry constantly, and the tightness of her belly when she fell asleep at noon bothered her. Then, as the days passed, it no longer hurt. She had plenty of water. But no food. Now, she concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other. She had to make it to the next oasis before the sun climbed much higher in the sky.  
  
Cries. Ororo scaled the next sand dune, and crouched. There were several men attacking a group of women, children, and goats. Her fingers clenched into fists at the unfairness of it; the big bullies! She watched as some of the men separated the women from the children while others raided the goats.  
  
Ororo felt the wind rise against the men, as she wished she could. It swirled sand up, creating a dust cloud that was impossible to see through. Then, with gusto, it hurtled through the air, a billion tiny bullets under its command. The sand pelted the attackers, the force of it driving them back, the stinging sand causing them to curse and cover their heads. The women and children fell on their faces into the ground, and Ororo stood in order to see better. She held her arms out for balance against the wind streaming from behind her to join the fray. Black clouds roiled on the horizon, pushed by the air to come this way.  
  
The men ran away, calling to each other, cursing, and blinded. Sand settled. The sun seemed unnaturally bright. Ororo wanted to be down with the women and children. A gust obliged, lifting her off her feet in a heady moment. She was flying! And then she was back on the ground before the oldest looking lady. Goddess.   
  
Her legs seemed to have forgotten how to hold her up while she was in the air. Her knees buckled, and she only had time for a startled, "Oh!" from her parched throat before she collapsed in the woman's arms in a faint.  
  
She came to a minute later, resting on the ground with people around her. They gave her some water and carried her back to their village and placed her in front of an elderly medicine man.  
  
"Where am I," she asked.  
  
"Kenya," replied the man. "And you are our Weather Goddess."  
  
  
  
(_)(_)(_)(_)(_)(_)  
  
Did I get all of Storm's childhood facts right? I read so many conflicting histories! What was the name of the tribe she first was with, anyways? That was never in the histories.  
  
Like? R+R! 


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